


Miseria Cantare - The Beginning

by overhavl



Series: ...but home is nowhere [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Master/Pet, Possessive Behavior, a moment with graphic descriptions but nothing too bad, the origin story so-to-speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overhavl/pseuds/overhavl
Summary: The lust washes over his eyes like a rolling tide, a small gasp coming from his lips. Chrollo hums, turning his attention back to his cake.or, Tserriednich asks Chrollo to stay with him while he's without his nen and Chrollo agrees. shenanigans ensue





	Miseria Cantare - The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> once again, for singie and the troupe <3  
> thanks for putting up with my latest obsession

    Greed Island had turned out to be mostly useless. Upon arrival, Chrollo learned that the rare game took place on a very real island, but he was unable to enter from the outside. The trip provided him information but no connections or resources. Left with only one option, he contacted Hisoka, offering a fight if he helped the spiders find  a way to return his nen. It had been a few days since his encounter with the chain user, and he was left with no way to contact his troupe. He could only hope they would find something. With a heavy sigh, he continued to ponder what he should do to occupy his time. The idea of sitting by idly and waiting didn’t sit well with him, so he supposed the best thing to do would be to continue the search elsewhere. He decided to continue east, toward the Azian continent where he had a few business connections. Perhaps they’d be of some help.

     A week after losing his nen, he arrived at the Azian continent. He found a humble inn located in a small town and rented a room through the night, purchasing his dinner at a stand along the way. He’s not in his room long before his phone buzzes next to him on the bed. Curious, he picks it up, a gasp leaving his lips at the name on the caller id: Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou. Chrollo had done business with him a few times in the past; the man had quite the enthusiastic interest in preserved remains. He’d even venture to say they had a pleasant business relationship. Supposing he didn’t have much to lose, he answered the call.

“Prince Tserriednich, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He answered, allowing his curiosity to show through in his voice. There was a hum, low and raspy, before the prince spoke.

“I’ve heard something interesting from a little bird. I was hoping you might clear things up.”

    Chrollo was immediately weary; an inquisitive phone call from a prince with a rampant lust for blood couldn't be without ulterior motives. Deciding to play along with the games for now, he gave a thoughtful hum before answering the man.

“And just what is this interesting news you've heard, hm?”

He keeps his voice pleasant, betraying none of his suspicions. The prince chuckles on the other side, the sound reverberating loud and clear in his ear.

“I do believe it's a matter best discussed in person, my dear.”

Chrollo arches a brow at the term of endearment, offers no comment.

“And just how do you propose to accomplish that?”

Again his tone is pleasant, curious, not a trace of doubt audible. Another chuckle.

“I've sent my men to collect you. They'll bring you to me. You can stay here with me; we have much to discuss.”

    His voice is a low rumble, and it tickles Chrollo's ear. Before he can offer anything, agreement or argument, the line goes dead. He glances around his room, wondering just how long it'll take the prince's men to arrive. He doesn't bother questioning how the man knows his whereabouts. He settles in for the evening and decides it would be best to try and get some sleep. He drifts off, thoughts of his spiders occupying his mind, entering his dreamscape.

    When Chrollo next wakes, the sun is high in the sky already. He collects his scarce belongings and heads to the lobby of the inn to check out. He gives the desk attendant a pleasant smile, and she averts her eyes, blush covering her pretty face, and wishes him a pleasant journey. When he exits the inn, he's greeted by four men. They're dressed in silks and stand stoic before him. Members of the prince's royal guard, then. Tipping his head to the side he offers a small grin, lashes fluttering as he blinks up at them. The sharp inhale from the back doesn't escape his notice, and he files it away for use later.

“I suppose you're the men Prince Tserriednich has sent to collect me then?”

Once again, he speaks in a calm, pleasant tone. The man in the front only offers him a nod, and Chrollo has to stop himself from pouting. How boring.

    Half an hour later, they're on a private airship en route to Prince Tserriednich's manor. Chrollo will admit he's pleased by the more luxurious mode of travel. He'd traveled by sea to Greed Island and then again to the Azian continent. Once arriving on land, he'd stayed in a modest inn, and while his room was not a dump, it was certainly no luxury suite. The comforts of elevated status were a welcome change of pace. He settled into the plush seat and pulled out a book to read for the duration of his flight.

    About two hours later, they were landing in an open field surrounded by thick woodland. He exited the airship, escorted by the four members of the royal guard. He followed the man in front along a winding grass pathway surrounded by an assortment of shrubbery and flowers. Chrollo took in his surroundings, never having been to the prince's private home before. After a few short minutes, they were standing in front of a large manor. He found himself thinking it quite suited the prince's personality. It was made of dark stone, giving one the feeling the building loomed over them. It was a very large home, clearly containing several floors and more rooms than the prince would surely ever need. He was led to the front door, red, and when it opened three wait staff greeted them. Immediately, they descended upon Chrollo, taking him by the arms and leading him through twisting corridors. They came to a stop once they had entered a large room that appeared to be a bathroom. Chrollo felt his eyes widen, unable to contain his surprise at the opulence. The tub itself was large enough to fit his entire troupe in at once comfortably. The shower was easily big enough for three or four people. It was decorated ornately, plush rugs on the ground and towels that looked softer than the bedsheets he'd previously slept on hanging around the room. There was a vanity with two sinks, and all of the fixtures were gold. He was distracted from his staring when two of the wait staff began to undress him, the third already running a bath for him. He was led to the tub, and he immediately climbed in and relaxed into the steaming water. He felt water being poured over his head and simply closed his eyes, allowing himself to be pampered after the long few weeks he'd just been through. Gentle fingers lathered shampoo into his hair, the room filling with the subtle scent of coconut. He nearly dozed off as the staff finished bathing him, but sooner than he would've liked he was being ushered out of the tub. He’s dressed in emerald colored silks, and adorned with accessories in silver. He momentarily wonders what happened to the clothes he was wearing before he’s hurried out of the room.

    Again, Chrollo’s led down winding corridors and this time, up two sets of stairs. The attendants stop in front of a room with an ornately decorated door. They open it for him, and he walks into a lavish room. The bed is quite large, far larger than is necessary for just one person. It has a canopy frame, made from a dark wood with heavy curtains surrounding the perimeter. Several plush pillows are placed in a neat formation atop a magnificent comforter, made from down no doubt. Turning his eyes from the clear centerpiece of the room, he gazes at the rest of it. There’s a vanity directly across from the bed made from what looks to be the same heavy, dark wood as the bed frame. The mirror is surrounded by intricate carvings in the wood. There’s an armoire to the right and a chest on the left, again made from the same wood. There’s a bookshelf in the corner nearest the armoire, and in the opposite corner an overstuffed lounge chair. The large area rug that extends from beneath the bed looks hand-made, and there’s a smaller matching one in front of the vanity. The attendants bid him farewell and exit the room, informing him it’s to be his during the duration of his stay. He makes his way over to the bookshelf, inspecting its contents. Pulling a book about a long extinct civilization from the shelf, he walks over to the chair and settles in to read for a few hours.

    Chrollo isn’t sure how long he spent curled up with his book, but a knock on the door diverts his attention. He calls out to the visitor, telling them to enter, and turns to see a young man enter with a tray in hand.

“Dinner will be served in an hour, Young Master. Would you like some hors d’oeuvres to tide you over until then?”

    The boy bows to him, extending his arm to offer Chrollo the tray. Chrollo feels a blush color his cheeks, embarrassed to be addressed in such a formal manner, but takes a small plate of the offered snacks, thanking the boy. The boy bows again and exits the room, leaving him to his book and snack. Chrollo takes a bite of the fritter, and hums in delight at the flavor of zucchini that fills his mouth. He shifts his position on the chair, curling up and balancing the fritters beside him, returning his attention to his book.

    It isn’t long before he hears another knock at the door. Again, he gives his permission to enter and looks up from his book to see one of the attendants from earlier. She asks him to follow her and leads him out of the room and down the stairs. They pass the main entrance of the manor and continue down a long hall before coming to a dining area. Chrollo’s almost impressed at the excessive luxury in every corner of the manner. Tserriednich certainly likes to show off. He’s led to a seat to the right of the one at the head of the table. His chair is pulled out for him and pushed back in as he’s seated. He barely has a moment to glance around the large room as Tserriednich takes his seat at the head of the table. Chrollo gives him his full attention.

“I’m glad you were able to join me. How was your trip?”

The prince turns to Chrollo, creating polite small talk. Chrollo offers a small smile, unsure what exactly the prince wants from him.

“It was quite comfortable, thank you,” he responds, voice light.

    Tserriednich hums, a low rumble that reverberates through Chrollo’s spine. He turns his attention from his anticipated guest and signals for the waitstaff to begin serving their dinner. A petite woman approaches and pours water in crystal glasses for each of them. The boy from earlier is not far behind her, placing appetizer plates in front of each of them. Chrollo’s mouth waters as he gazes down at the candied carrots, drizzled with honey and topped with spices. He picks up a fork, delicately spearing a carrot and bringing it to his mouth for a taste. His taste buds spark to life at the combined flavors of honey, cumin, and paprika, creating a thrilling mix of sweet with a hint of spice. Chrollo enthusiastically digs into the appetizer, just barely remembering to mind his manners.

“Is the food to your liking?”

Tserriednich wears a saccharine smile, voice dripping honey. Chrollo only hums in acknowledgement, continuing to munch happily on the carrots.

    They finish their appetizers in an amicable silence, and before long two more staff members clear their plates and bring out their next course. The third is a crisp, refreshing garden salad, topped with tomatoes, onions, and a tart vinaigrette to finish it off. Again, they finish the course in silence, the only noise in the room the crunching of the fresh lettuce. The petite girl from before enters, carrying two crystal bordeaux glasses and a bottle of full-bodied Bordeaux, no doubt from the left bank of the region if Tserriednich’s spending habits are any hint. She pours them each a glass of the red, technique flawless. Chrollo looks up as the young boy that had brought their appetizers returns, this time with plates of filet mignon topped with a bordelaise sauce and paired with roasted asparagus. Chrollo hums, pleased by the excellent pairing of wine and dish.

“Please, enjoy,” Tserriednich says to him, voice a deep rumble, gesturing to the extravagant meal in front of them.

   Chrollo cuts a piece of the steak, tender enough that he needs only a fork to slice it, and takes a bite, making sure to get some of the bordelaise. Tserriednich’s eyes never leave him as he tastes the food, his own meal nearly forgotten. Chrollo’s eyes flutter shut and he nearly moans at the buttery texture of the meat. He opens his eyes to gaze at his dinner companion.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

    His tone is just shy of flirtatious, the exquisite food and comfortable lodging putting him in a friendly mood. He wants to know what Tserriednich is after, and if he has to seduce the man to find out, then so be it.

    Tserriednich hums in response and takes a bite of his own steak, making sure to cut a piece of asparagus as well. They eat in silence for a moment before Tserriednich turns his gaze to Chrollo once again.

“Little birds have been singing songs that travel lately,” he says, tone casual, waiting for Chrollo to offer information.

Chrollo takes another bite of his steak, chewing slowly to buy himself time. Just what sort of rumors has the prince been hearing?

“I trust the tunes are pleasant?”

He keeps his voice light, pleasant, not betraying any of his suspicions. Tserriednich offers a smile.

“They sing melodies of a spider who’s lost his venom.”

    He offers no other information, but Chrollo hardly needs it. Tserriednich had heard that he’d been weakened, though how much the prince actually knew was beyond him. He keeps his expression neutral, eating more of the meal as he considers his options. Before he offers a response, Tserriednich’s continuing on his own.

“Just what is this nen that you’ve lost? And how much has it weakened the deadly spider?”

    Tserriednich sounds amused, though genuinely curious. Chrollo considers his options again. He’s unsure of Tserriednich’s goal, but he sees no harm in informing the man of the existence of nen. What he’s hesitant about is letting the man know exactly what his weakened state means. He decides to start with a more general answer.

“Every living being possesses their own life force, their aura. Nen is simply the ability to manipulate that aura. Nen can be used as both a weapon and a form of defense.”

Chrollo explains the basic principle of nen to the curious prince. Tserriednich looks like he wants to ask a question, but Chrollo already knows what it’ll most likely be.

“ _All_ living beings possess aura, yourself included. You are simply unable to see it. It is constantly flowing, usually slowly leaking from those who do not know how to control it. It leaks from aura nodes, similar to your pores. You can only see it once the aura nodes in your eyes have been opened, though with training you can sometimes feel it before you ever see it.”

He continues his explanation while eating his meal, not paying any mind to whether Tserriednich has any interest in the topic anymore.

“So you have lost your ability to control your aura? How troublesome. Is that dangerous?”

The prince’s eyes are alight with a curiosity that sets Chrollo on edge. However, he hasn’t asked anything too dangerous yet, so he indulges his companion.

“I am currently unable to use any of the techniques that come from learning how to use nen, yes. I suppose you could say it would be dangerous. I’m left without a method of defense that is usually quite convenient. That does not mean I’m powerless, though. For instance, if I wanted to kill you right now I would have no problem doing so.”

    Chrollo phrases it like he’s only joking, but his eyes are sharp, watching Tserriednich’s reactions. The prince looks captivated, almost affectionate. His mouth widens into a cheshire grin, unsettling Chrollo.

“I have no doubt that you could, Little Spider. But what are you to do, so defenseless in the face of birds of prey?”

Chrollo grits his teeth as the prince doesn’t even bother to cover his amusement.

“I suppose I’ll just have to keep out of sight of the so-called predators,” is his offered answer, tone flat, uncaring of the threats that lie in wait.

Tserriednich chuckles, a deep, throaty sound. Chrollo shivers.

    The waitstaff arrive to carry away their dishes again. The petite girl is back, this time placing two port glasses on the table, crystal of course. She follows with a port wine, bows, and leaves them. Two plates of chocolate cake are placed on the table. It looks rich and moist, and Chrollo’s mouth waters.

Intent on his dessert, Chrollo pays Tserriednich no mind as the man continues to ponder their previous conversation.

“Perhaps I could be of help to you,” he contemplates aloud, catching Chrollo’s attention.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Chrollo can’t hide his curiosity, and the prince smiles.

“Little Spider,” the prince begins, tone bemused, nearly patronizing, “you are not the only connection to the underground I have.”

That cheshire grin is back on the prince’s face as he gazes at Chrollo, who is considering the prince’s implications carefully.

“You’re offering to help me find an exorcist? And what exactly do you want as payment?”

Chrollo wonders yet again what it is the prince wants from him.

“I don’t ask for much,” he purrs.

Chrollo shivers again.

“I simply desire your company. Stay here while we search. I have no doubt your spiders are looking as well. The more the merrier, right? And you’ll be safe here.”

    Tserriednich sounds like he’s trying to coax an abused animal to take food from him. Chrollo supposes that’s not far off. He knows the prince is correct. He _would_ be safe here; no one in their right mind would make an attempt on him or any guests in his own home. Besides, Chrollo couldn’t directly contact the spiders himself, but Tserriednich could. Humming to himself, he takes a bite of his untouched cake. The rich chocolate rolls over his taste buds like velvet. He can’t hold back a small moan as he swallows the bite. He sees Tserriednich’s gaze snap to him, eyes sharp, wanting. Chrollo nearly grins. It would be all-too easy to endear the prince to him, have the man in the palm of his hand.

Offering a small smile, he flutters his lashes at the prince, watching lust pool in his gaze.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose-”

Tserriednich cuts him off before he can finish.

“Nonsense. There is more than enough room for you here. I have plenty of resources you can use at your disposal. You’re a very welcome guest.”

    The prince’s gaze holds a deep longing as he offers his home and assets to Chrollo. In return, Chrollo widens his smile and looks into the other man’s eyes, expression full of gratitude.

“You’re so kind, Prince Tserriednich. I hope I can find some way to thank you properly.”

    His tone is coy, and the implication isn’t lost on the prince. The lust washes over his eyes like a rolling tide, a small gasp coming from his lips. Chrollo hums, turning his attention back to his cake.

 

\------------------------------

 

    Chrollo spends every day for about a week just exploring Tserriednich’s manor. He’d found yet another luxurious bathroom on the same floor as his guest room. On the floor below, he’d found a massive library, making sure to remember the route to it. The floor above his houses the prince’s quarters. He’d been wandering through the long hallways one day when he ran into Tserriednich, nearly falling over in his surprise. The prince only seemed amused and led him through the rest of the floor, showing him the private study he had as well as his quarters. Curiosity sated, Chrollo returned to the second floor to explore the library.

    After his first week in the manor, Chrollo spent many of his days in the library, perusing the shelves or curled up on the comfortable chaise with a book until the early morning hours. He had yet to hear any news from the troupe, and Tserriednich had some of his own contacts searching as well with no leads as of yet. Sometimes Tserriednich would join him, and they would spend the day reading, sometimes discussing their text of choice.

    Chrollo found the prince’s company to be quite enjoyable. He was well-versed in many topics and had no trouble keeping up with Chrollo’s wit. Sometimes they’d debate, and others they’d simply share their own knowledge with the other. Some days Chrollo would venture up to Tserriednich’s private study and spend time with him there.

    He’s quite comfortable here thanks to the prince’s abundant luxuries. The armoire in Chrollo’s room is filled with outfits made from luxurious fabrics, available in any color he may like. Tserriednich’s tastes are hardly subtle, the outfits usually leaving some portion of Chrollo’s skin exposed to wandering eyes. He finds himself relaxing into the pattern they’ve created: spending their free time together, becoming more acquainted with each passing day, and having dinner together every evening before retreating to their own rooms for the night.

 

    It was after Chrollo had been in the manor for about three months when the first lead surfaced. He was curled up on the sofa in Tserriednich’s private study with a book, the prince a warm, solid support behind him. Chrollo’s engrossed in a text about the human subconscious when Tserriednich clears his throat to get Chrollo’s attention. Tserriednich informs him one of Chrollo’s associates has reached out. Immediately curious, Chrollo gives the prince his full attention, turning to see his own phone in the prince’s hand. He spares a moment to wonder why the man looks so displeased. Before he can ask what is wrong, the prince sets aside his book on coercion and soft power and asks Chrollo who Hisoka is. Chrollo can feel his own features brighten at the mention of the devious clown, wondering just what he’s found. Tserriednich’s eyes sharpen, and Chrollo is distracted, pondering yet again what’s wrong with the prince.

“It seems this Hisoka has found some information about an exorcist on Greed Island.”

Tserriednich says Hisoka’s name with a bite, and Chrollo wonders what it is about Hisoka that irritates him so much if he doesn’t know the other man.

Curiosity piqued, he turns fully around, entire body facing the prince, nearly in his lap.

“Does Hisoka bother you?”

    The question is innocent enough. He gazes up at the other man, eyes wide and curious. Tserriednich gazes down as Chrollo’s phone buzzes with another incoming message. Chrollo gasps at the rage that flits across the other man’s face, only there for a short moment before he masks it, face neutral.

“He says he cannot wait to see you.”  
    Tserriednich’s words are clipped, and Chrollo nearly winces. He’s spent three months in the prince’s company nearly every day. He knows the man is quite attached to him, always giving Chrollo his undivided attention, sometimes accompanied by affectionate touches. Chrollo’s grown quite fond of Tserriednich himself. He finds the man to be a comforting presence, his unusual hobbies not really bothering Chrollo. Chrollo’s a class A bounty; he’s seen many things, and Tserriednich’s penchant for dismemberment is hardly the worst. He considers how to placate the other man.

Humming, he crawls into the prince’s lap, gazing directly into his hardened eyes.

“He’s always saying things like that. Sometimes I wonder what his intentions really are.”

    Chrollo’s voice is quiet, soothing, and he nuzzles Tserriednich’s cheek. The prince wraps an arm around Chrollo’s waist, grip tight and possessive. Chrollo smiles, and pulls away just slightly to place a light kiss on the man’s face.

“I find your company to be far more enjoyable. Hisoka is quite deceitful; I can never let my guard down around him,” he purrs into Tserriednich’s ear.

    The prince’s grip around him tightens, and he runs his free hand through Chrollo’s hair, eyes softening. Chrollo hums, leaning into the touch. He meets the prince’s stare, eyes filled with the affection he’s come to feel for the man over the past months. It must please him because there’s no longer even the slightest trace of the anger from before in his eyes. He moves his hand from Chrollo’s hair to his cheek, guiding his face closer and planting a kiss on his mouth. Chrollo relaxes into him, mouth parting in a pleased sigh. Tserriednich takes advantage of the moment, tongue snaking into Chrollo’s mouth to tangle with his own. Chrollo pushes back for only a moment before he allows Tserriednich to take the lead. The kiss is heady, Tserriednich becoming bolder the longer they stay pressed together. His arm is tight around Chrollo’s waist, possessive. Chrollo only parts from him once the need for air becomes too much to bear, pulling his face merely inches away. He can feel the flush on his cheeks, knows he must be a sight; his lips feel swollen. Tserriednich looks entirely too pleased, running his hand down Chrollo’s cheek, stopping at his neck and caressing the soft skin there. He wonders just what he’s gotten himself into.

 

    From then on, their routine changes only slightly. When Tserriednich isn’t taking meetings with whomever, he spends his free time with Chrollo, bodies so tangled they can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. At times, they read or have discussions, simply enjoying each other’s company. Other times, Tserr paints his ownership over Chrollo’s smooth skin, body an open, willing canvas. Chrollo finds himself being drawn into their tranquil routine, content to spend his days in the presence of the enigmatic prince.

They’re having dinner one night when Tserriednich asks Chrollo about his plans for the future.

“What will you do after you regain your abilities, Little Spider?”

He asks it with an air of nonchalance, but Chrollo can see the look in his eyes, the longing. He hums in thought.

“I hadn’t planned that far ahead. I owe Hisoka a fight for helping me find an exorcist, but otherwise, I’m unsure.”  
He turns his attention back to his meal, letting Tserriednich contemplate his words.

“You could stay here,” he says, tone casual, taking a drink of the Pinot Noir they’re having and then cutting himself a piece of veal.

    Chrollo doesn’t respond immediately, turning the idea over and over in his head. The suggestion is certainly appealing. He enjoys his time with Tserr, and he wants for nothing here. However, he longs to see his spiders again, to do what he’s always done: take what he wants with no apologies.

“I’m afraid I don’t make a very good domestic pet,” he tells Tserriednich, tone gentle.

Tserriednich hums, not as displeased as Chrollo expected.

“I won’t force you to stay here, but do consider it. You’re under no obligation to spend every waking moment here, even if you do decide to stay. Of course you can come and go as you please, so long as you always return to me. That is all I ask.”

    He lays his offer out for Chrollo’s consideration, still focused on his food. Chrollo takes the time to contemplate this new proposal. He had expected Tserr to want him to remain here, another addition to his collection of exotic items, only alive and moving. When he takes the time to really think about it though, he supposes he’s more valuable to Tserriednich with his freedom. He’s learned over the months he’s spent by the man’s side that he values knowledge and strength; Chrollo knows with full use of his nen he’d be nothing short of a wet dream for the other man. Still, he must really want Chrollo to stay if he’s willing to offer him the freedom to come and go as he pleases rather than place him in a gilded cage.

“Will you give me time to think about it?”

   Chrollo asks him, looking into Tserr’s eyes, Chrollo’s own affection mirrored there. Tserriednich nods his affirmation, taking another gulp of his wine. They finish the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, only offering a few words here and there. When they’re finished, they retire to Tserr’s room, where Chrollo finds himself spending more and more of his nights as of late. The man indulges himself in Chrollo’s tenderness, born of a deep yearning that courses through him like the blood in his veins.

    As the months stretch on, they grow more comfortable with each other. Chrollo no longer even bothers to attempt to hide the marks littering his body, bruises in the shape of fingers on his hips, dark marks on his collar bones, abdomen, and thighs. On the occasions Tserr has guests over, he entertains himself by teasing the men that visit the manor. Chrollo chooses more revealing outfits, allowing curious gazes to become familiar with Tserr’s marks of ownership. He indulges the prince’s possessive tendencies, even choosing to accessorize with jewel-studded collars. Each time he wears one, Tserr’s eyes sharpen with hunger.

Chrollo begins wearing them even when the guests aren’t present.

 

    Chrollo has spent nearly a year with Tserr, with periodic updates from Hisoka about the exorcist on Greed Island. Tserr speaks to his spiders, keeps him informed on their whereabouts and well-being. They’d found a replacement for Hisoka already, a young Zoldyck. Chrollo’s anxious to meet the newest member, to see all of them again. Hisoka’s most recent update, a month ago, said they’d be ready to leave the island soon. He wonders how much longer he’ll have to wait.

 

They’re curled up on the sofa in Tserr’s study one day, Chrollo’s nestled into the prince’s side, warm and comfortable with a good book.

“I’ll stay. But after I regain my nen, I’ll need to go to Heaven’s Arena for a short while. I promised Hisoka a fight,” Chrollo murmurs into Tserr’s side.

    He feels the prince stiffen, and then he’s being moved, maneuvered into Tserr’s lap. He blinks, mildly surprised, but before he can say anything, his lips are covered. Tserr kisses him deeply, like he wants to devour Chrollo’s entire being. Chrollo melts into him, offering himself eagerly to the man who has given him so much. Chrollo’s only just starting to feel light-headed from the lack of air when his phone buzzing on the side table interrupts them. Tserr pulls away with a tsk and checks it. His face shifts into a mask of indifference, and Chrollo knows it must be Hisoka. Tserr has proven to be less than fond of the clown’s flirtatious nature.

“They’ve left the island. He wants to meet in a week.”

Chrollo’s breath leaves him.

 

    Tserr spends the week before meeting the exorcist practically glued to Chrollo’s side. Chrollo can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, the man’s constant affection more than welcome. He dreams of reuniting with his spiders, his family. The fight he’s promised Hisoka is barely even a concern to him, so much more eager to assemble his troupe for a job for the first time in over a year.’ The day before he leaves, Tserr’s temperament is noticeably gloomy, thoughts no doubt circling around Chrollo’s meeting with Hisoka.

“Tserr,” Chrollo coos, trying to distract his agitated lover.

    He circles his arms around the taller man’s neck, pressing himself as close to the prince as possible. Tserr runs a hand down his back, settling it on his hip, and gives Chrollo his full attention.

“Don’t look so upset. I’ll be back in a few months.”

Chrollo leans closer, purring into his ear. Tserr hums noncommittally before using his free hand to guide Chrollo’s face back in front of his own.

“I’m simply going to miss my little spider. Is that such a crime?”

His voice is nearly a growl, and Chrollo feels it in his bones. He nuzzles Tserr’s cheek, humming.

“Of course I’ll miss you as well, but it’s only until I get rid of Hisoka.”

    He chooses his words carefully, knowing the implication of removing Hisoka from his life once and for all will more than appease the prince. Sure enough, he can feel Tserr relax under him, pulling Chrollo tight against him. They spend the rest of the evening like that, limbs entwined, enjoying each other’s presence.

    When Chrollo wakes in the morning, he’s still tangled up with Tserr in his study. Stretching, he carefully untwines their limbs, doing his best not to wake the prince. He heads to the bathroom and runs himself a bath. As he soaks in the water, he considers what’s in store for his immediate future. He’ll have his nen returned to him, and then he’ll need to take some time to prepare himself for his fight with Hisoka. With his current arsenal of abilities, the other man would no doubt be able to out-maneuver him in a fight. He hears the door open but pays it no mind. Moments later, the water shifts from the addition of another body. Opening his eyes, a serene smile crosses his features at the sight of the prince in front of him. Shifting, he closes the distance between them, climbing into Tserr’s lap.

“Good morning,” Chrollo purrs, covering Tserr’s face with soft kisses.

    Tserr chuckles, winding his arms around Chrollo’s waist and returning the kisses. Chrollo coos as Tserr trails kisses from his forehead, to his cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. The kisses start out sweet, but gradually become more forceful, Tserr drawing the breath from Chrollo’s lungs. He relaxes into his prince, relishing the fervent touches. A moan escapes him as one of Tserr’s hands travels from his hip to the cleft of his bottom, running his fingers over Chrollo’s opening. Groping around blindly, Chrollo grabs a bottle of lotion from the edge of the tub and pushes it to Tserr’s chest, urging him to take it. Tserr hums and opens the bottle, removing his hand from Chrollo’s cheeks so that he can coat his fingers in the lotion. Chrollo releases a sigh of pleasure when Tserr inserts a finger, gradually coaxing him open. Before long he’s added a second, and then a third, and Chrollo keens at the scissoring motion he makes. His body hums with pent-up energy, skin set aflame as Tserr’s fingers graze the bundle of nerves deep inside him, making Chrollo see white.

“Enough- that’s enough. _Please_ ,” Chrollo whines, desperate to feel Tserr inside him.

    The prince only hums in response, removing his fingers. Chrollo huffs at the feeling of emptiness, but before he can complain further, he feels the prince lining himself up with his entrance. He pushes in steadily, leaving Chrollo breathless. Fully sheathed inside his pliant lover, Tserr stops for a moment to allow him to adjust. Chrollo mewls, rolling his hips, urging Tserr to move.

    The pace is hurried, Tserr’s thrusts urgent. He covers Chrollo’s lips with his own, tongues entwining together, muffling Chrollo’s gasps and mewls. Tserr’s fingers dig into his hips, surely making new bruises where the others had begun to fade. Chrollo wails as he reaches his climax, vision whiting out and static in his ears. Tserr isn’t far behind, and he slumps against the side of the tub, boneless in the aftermath with Chrollo sagged against him. They stay like that for an unknown amount of time, unwilling to part from each other. Only when the water begins to cool do they pull apart, Chrollo grimacing as the remnants of their activities drips down his thighs. Tserr chuckles at his displeasure and guides him to the shower, turning the water on and letting it run until steam fills the room before ushering Chrollo inside. Chrollo relaxes under the hot water and allows Tserr to clean him, hands sometimes lingering, and pressing kisses to his shoulders and neck. Chrollo finds himself thinking again about the months to come, though this time his thoughts are colored a different tone. His heart aches at the idea of being away from Tserr for so long. He takes a moment to wonder just when he’d become so attached.

     As he boards the airship that will take him north of Heaven’s Arena, Chrollo reluctantly removes the collar from his neck. He tucks it away to keep it safe, refusing to leave it on the ship. He runs his fingers along the spine of a book he’d brought with him before settling in for the long ride. Rather than read, however, he spends much of his trip planning his preparations for the upcoming fight with Hisoka.

\-----------------------------------

    The fight with Hisoka left Chrollo feeling lighter, mostly because he'd rid himself and the spiders of an unnecessary burden. He made a quick call to Shalnark, informing him the job had been done and what lay in the spiders’ future. It was sometime later when he felt it. The feeling of a hatsu he had taken leaving his possession was one he had only felt a few times, but it was quite distinct, like a piece of him disappeared. Curious, he conjured _Bandit’s Secret_ and flipped through the pages. Chrollo felt his stomach bottom out and a suffocating grief fill him at the absence of Black Voice. Not one to panic, he called Machi and requested to meet.

    Chrollo’s grief was replaced with a boundless fury when Machi informed him that Hisoka was, in fact, very much still alive. He had no doubt the clown had killed his spiders out of spite after losing his fight with Chrollo. He felt an overwhelming bloodlust overtake him, something he'd kept a tight hold on in the past. He could tell Machi was becoming uncomfortable, unfamiliar with this kind of display from her leader. He gave her his thanks and bid her farewell before leaving, to go where, he was unsure. He just knew he couldn't be in this city anymore, couldn't stomach it.

\--------------------------------

    A month later Chrollo found himself wandering back to Kakin, seeking out Tserriednich before he even realized what he was doing. It’s dawn when he makes it back, and he takes a moment to appreciate the scenery. The sky is painted a pretty yellow that eventually gives way to its usual blue, and the clouds are a vibrant orange with the light of the rising sun. The wildlife was only just beginning to stir, filling the air with soft sounds of birds chirping and rabbits rustling through the brush. He gazes out at the woodland he’d just emerged from, the foliage thick and lush in the late spring season. He turns back to the manor and enters, leaving his present of sorts for Tserr at the door. Needing to calm his fraying nerves, he'd slaughtered the owners of a small museum about two weeks prior. It was in a fairly remote area; he hadn't expected to find anything of value there, wasn't really looking very hard. To his surprise, the museum held ancient tomes from civilizations long past, ornate jewelry clearly hand-crafted, and even preserved remains. He'd robbed them blind, selling most of the items rather quickly and keeping the human remains for Tserr. Shaking himself of the dark thoughts, he headed further into the manor and was welcomed by a flurry of the prince's staff, no doubt wanting to clean him up and make him more presentable before allowing him to see the prince.

    After an admittedly much-needed bath and a fresh change of clothes, he found himself waiting in Tserr’s quarters. The familiar weight of the collar around his neck was comforting in its secure fit. He indulged himself with an ancient text from one of the prince's bookshelves and curled up on the large bed, sinking into the plush pillows and soft blankets.

    He was halfway through the text when Tserr entered the room; Chrollo grunted in greeting but otherwise kept his attention on the text. Tserriednich sat on the bed next to him and ran his fingers through Chrollo's hair. Before he even knew it, he was relaxing into the touch, seeking further comfort from those hands. Tserr hummed and rested his free hand on Chrollo's hip, fingers absently stroking the skin exposed by his scant clothing.

“I enjoyed the gifts, thank you.”

    His voice was low, a drawl, and it sent a shiver down Chrollo's spine. He hummed in acknowledgment, but the reminder of the heist brought the rage he'd barely managed to repress back to the surface, bloodlust rearing its ugly head. He felt sick.

    Tserriednich felt his shift in mood and pulled Chrollo into his lap, fingers resuming their calming caress on his scalp. Chrollo melted into him, wanting the unbridled fury to leave him. It was exhausting.

“What troubles you, Pet?”

    The prince’s voice was nearly a whisper, hand leaving his hip to settle at the collar around his neck. Chrollo heaved a shuddering breath and barely stifled a sob. He felt raw, like his surface had been scratched away and all that was left were his insides, laid bare to the world. Leaning further into the prince's embrace, he all but buried his head in the man's neck before gathering himself as well as he could. Another deep breath. This one more of a gasp, it scratched at his throat, burned his lungs. Releasing the scalding air, he recounted the events of the past month, having to pause as his voice threatened to break when he told him of Shalnark’s and Kortopi's deaths. Tserriednich listened quietly, waiting patiently for him to finish.

    Once he'd finished airing his sorrows to his companion, Chrollo felt marginally better. The rage had left him, leaving him feeling utterly exhausted. He curled closer to the prince, inhaling deeply his scent which had become comforting over time, and allowed himself to succumb to a deep sleep, Tserr’s fingers in his hair lulling him.

   He awoke sometime later still curled up in the prince's lap, though they were no longer in Tserr's quarters. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and glanced around the room, noting they were in one of the large halls he seldom visited. Tserr typically took his meetings here, and they scarcely interested Chrollo enough to want to accompany him. He usually found other ways to amuse himself until the prince was no longer occupied. As it stood, he didn't quite feel like leaving the Tserr's warmth, so he figured he could find a way to amuse himself until the meeting was finished.

   Glancing through the room again, he took note of those present. He caught the gaze of a stout man who had no doubt just finished appraising the rest of him. He bit back a smirk. Perfect. Chrollo sent the man a shy smile and fluttered his lashes. The effect was immediate; Chrollo could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from across the room. A taller man sitting to the right took notice of the stock one's distraction and followed his stare to Chrollo, who immediately averted his eyes to the floor, letting a blush overtake his features. When Chrollo chanced a glance back at the men, he found two more were staring as well. That made half the meeting's attendees. He knew that once Tserr noticed the men were distracted, he'd undoubtedly be irked to say the least. However, it would only be amusing when he realized they couldn't keep their eyes off of Chrollo. He looked back at the small group of men again and pretended to be surprised to find so many eyes on himself, again allowing a blush to cover his cheeks. He offered another shy smile and looked back to the floor again. To anyone else he appeared shy, embarrassed by the ogles being sent in his direction, not encouraging them in the slightest.

   He felt more than heard when Tserr cleared his throat, having noticed the group’s lack of attention, the chest supporting him vibrating against his side. He looked up at his keeper to find his jaw clenched and a vicious glare being directed at the group of men that had only moments ago been eyeing Chrollo like a piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of starving wolves. Peeking at the men again, he nearly scoffed at the guilty expressions on their faces. Well, most of them. One man-- he appeared to be the largest of the four and if Chrollo’s eye hadn’t lost its touch, the wealthiest as well-- was staring back at Tserr unabashed.

    He would give credit where credit was due. The man was certainly bold. Whether it be from actual courage or just recklessness, he was unconcerned with Tserr’s obvious fury. Chrollo bit back a laugh, feeling Tserr’s arm tighten around his waist. He was suddenly thankful the leash wasn’t currently attached to his collar, as Tserr would surely strangle him with the force of his grip if it were present. He looked back to Tserr, playing the role of the ever-loyal pet, and batted his lashes up at him whining softly for the man’s attention. It works, for the moment, and Tserr focuses his attention solely on Chrollo, reaching up to caress his face. Chrollo nuzzles into the touch, practically preening at the attention after more than a month of being deprived of it. Tserr hums, but a moment later he’s turning to face the men again.

“I believe we’re finished here,” he says, clipped, leaving no room for disagreement.

    Chrollo stands from his lap and stretches, his limbs cramped from being curled up for so long. He feels eyes on him and turns to see the man from before, giving him that same hungry look. Chrollo pays him no mind, knowing Tserr’s watching for his reaction. He turns and leaves the room, well aware that the man will be escorted from the room, but he’ll never make it out of the manor. Tserr will likely spend the afternoon torturing him, and when he’s finished, he’ll seek Chrollo out to reassert his claim upon him. Anticipation coils hot in his gut. No doubt, he’ll be covered in bruises in the morning; the shape of Tserr’s fingers painted on his hips and thighs, bite marks littering his otherwise unblemished skin. He lets a pleased sigh escape him as he heads toward the baths again, intent on ensuring he’s prepared for later.

    Chrollo finds that being left alone with his thoughts is quite unpleasant for a change. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but he’s plagued with thoughts of Hisoka. He wonders where the clown is now, what his next move will be, when they’ll meet again. He’s curled up in Tserr’s bed again, waiting on the prince to return from his gruesome hobby, but rather than the anticipation he’d been filled with earlier, there’s only sorrow. He jumps when he hears the door open, startled from his musings, and turns his eyes to Tserr, who’s undoubtedly agitated. Chrollo wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have toyed with those men. He was no longer in the mood to deal with Tserr’s fit of jealousy.

    Tserr seems to always know with unnerving accuracy when his mind is elsewhere, only this time, he’s hardly in a mood to lend an ear for Chrollo’s wandering thoughts. In a few steps he’s by the bed, leaning over Chrollo, forcing him to focus on the irate prince.

“Just who occupies your mind, _Pet_?”

    The usually endearing name is nearly spit at him, and Chrollo wonders what that man must have said to Tserr to push him this far. When he doesn’t answer quickly enough, Tserr reaches out, gripping his chin firmly so Chrollo can’t turn his head away, not that he’d ever show the other man such an obvious sign of defeat.

“I believe,” Tserr grinds out, patience clearly wearing thin, “I asked you a question.”

Chrollo returns his gaze, refusing to be cowed.

“There is no one else-”

    He’s cut off by a snarl, and then Tserr’s lips are on his. The kiss is bruising and forceful, Tserr trying to assert his control over both the situation and Chrollo as a whole. Chrollo lets him have this, things are easier this way. He follows the prince’s lead, opens his mouth when entrance is demanded by Tserr, lets him control the pace. When Chrollo is starting to feel light headed from the lack of air and the heady feeling of the kiss, Tserr pulls back. A string of saliva connects their lips, only centimeters apart.

“Try again,” is all the prince says, but his tone carries a heavy warning against further circumvention.

   Chrollo isn’t quite sure where to go from here. If he tries to placate him again, the prince will only grow more agitated, but surely the truth would enrage him. There was no winning. Tserr tightens his fingers around Chrollo’s chin and the decision is made for him.

“Hisoka,” he bites, jaw barely able to move around the syllables with the bruising grip.

    He sees Tserr’s eyes flash with unrestrained rage for a brief moment before it’s gone, replaced by a mask of disturbing indifference. He represses a wince. Letting go of Chrollo’s chin, Tserr stands and backs away from him, leaving the room without another word or a glance at Chrollo. He’s astounded. Never had the prince deigned to ignore him, and the thought that it could be over something so petty had never once crossed Chrollo’s mind. He isn’t quite sure what to make of the moment, and he spends the rest of the evening in the prince’s bed unsure if he’ll return or if Chrollo should seek him out and apologize.

    Nightfall brings with it a cold, empty bed, and Chrollo is left with a wandering mind once again. He can’t concentrate for long enough to read anything, so he’s left tossing and turning in the bed, trying to quiet his mind enough to rest. When sleep does take him, it’s fitful, plagued with nightmares. He wakes in the early morning feeling worse than the night before and decides to look for Tserr. He wanders about the manor for at least an hour before he decides to head to the room where Tserr keeps all of his weapons. Turning through the familiar maze of the halls, he stops outside the door and steals himself, expecting a dreadful sight to greet him.

   He’s hardly surprised to see Tserr slumped against the far wall, blood and gore coating his clothes and skin in thick, disgusting layers. He glances around the room at the remains of the unfortunate victims, knowing it was his little skirmish with the prince that caused this particularly violent outburst and that their deaths were surely painful. Sighing, he directs his attention to the prince again and makes his way over to him, doing his best to avoid piles of flesh and organs. He kneels in front of the man and reaches out, running a gentle hand down his cheek, caressing his jaw. Tserr looks up at him, eyes unfocused.

“Tserr,” Chrollo coos, voice barely above a whisper, trying to coax the prince back to him gently.

   Tserr’s eyes roll a bit before closing, and then he blinks them rapidly a few times, looking up at him. Chrollo hums, and offers him a small smile. He leans in and places a short kiss against his keeper’s lips, nuzzles his cheek. Tserr makes a noise, voice hoarse, and reaches for him, pulling him down into his lap. Chrollo allows it despite the mess that’ll cover them both now. Tserr runs a hand up his side, and he sighs again, though this time in relief. The prince’s touch is comforting, and he’s been starved of it for nearly a month-and-a-half. The few short hours they were together yesterday before the little tiff were hardly enough to sate him.

“Have you remembered who you belong to, Pet?”

    Tserr’s voice holds undeniable affection, but it hasn’t lost the edge from before. Chrollo swallows. He isn’t out of the woods yet. Pressing himself as tightly to the larger body as he can, Chrollo melts against him. He buries his face in his neck before answering.

“The Prince of Kakin, of course.”

Even in concession, Chrollo can’t resist picking at the fresh wound. Tserr’s fingers dig into his hip. Chrollo grins.

“There are fourteen princes of Kakin, Pet.”

His tone is even, but Chrollo knows his patience has worn thin. He hums into the warmth of his neck.

“Ah, my mistake. I only know of one _true_ heir to the throne, but please do educate me.”

     Chrollo’s world spins, and he’s suddenly pinned to the ground, Tserr’s lips on his, tongue demanding entrance that Chrollo’s all too willing to give. He can’t hold back the wanton moan that suddenly finds its way from his chest to his vocal chords, body curling closer to the prince, craving more contact. It’s not enough, never enough. Tserr pulls away, and Chrollo whines in protest. Tserr laughs back at him, patronizing, malevolent.

“My, how eager you are, _Pet_. Tell me, what is it you cry so sweetly for?”

Chrollo heaves, trying to regain his bearings. He swallows another petulant whine and gazes up at his keeper. Tserr returns his stare, eyes alight with cold amusement.

“Please,” Chrollo gasps, but he can’t seem to get enough air.

“Please what, Pet?”

Tserr’s eyes are cruel as he stares at his favorite pet.

“ _Please_ , touch me, anything!”

Chrollo’s voice hitches, bordering on a sob. Tserr laughs again, ruthless. He hums, reaching out to caress Chrollo’s face, who nearly keens with the contact.

“My pet, do you believe you deserve my affections after you’ve occupied your thoughts with another for so long? I hardly think you do,” his tone is amused, but his eyes are malicious as he removes his hand from Chrollo’s face, withdrawing from him completely.

    Chrollo can’t bite back the whine, a pained keen leaving his throat. Tears are beginning to form in his eyes at the prince’s particularly cruel form of chosen punishment. Tserr gives him a wide, disdainful grin. Chrollo shivers.

“Come, Pet, I believe we’re both in frightful need of a bath.”

    Chrollo blinks up at him as he stands, feeling as if his head had just been dunked into ice. He struggles to his feet, legs shaking, and follows Tserr out of his favorite chamber to the baths.  

    After they’ve cleaned up they return to their quarters, Chrollo curls up in Tserr’s lap, demanding the prince’s attention. Tserr chuckles a bit but indulges him anyway. Chrollo softens into the sweet touches, fingers running through his hair, up and down his sides. He nearly forgets why Tserr was so angry in the first place.

“Gather your spiders, have them meet you on the Black Whale for the voyage to the Dark Continent.”

    Chrollo nearly jumps when the prince’s voice interrupts the silence, but quickly shifts his focus to Tserr’s words. He had completely forgotten about the Dark Continent voyage Tserr’s father had been planning for the last year. He turns to face Tserr, curious.

“Hisoka will undoubtedly be compelled to follow if all of the troupe are to be in one place for an extended period of time. He won’t be able to resist the bait. You’ll accompany me on the trip, help with the succession war, and we’ll find Hisoka and kill him,” Tserr offers before Chrollo can even ask.

    Chrollo is momentarily shocked, he had forgotten about the upcoming war among the princes! He considers his prince’s plan quietly. Tserr would definitely have his mafia connections aboard the ship as well. Chrollo would have plenty of resources to sniff the clown out.

Turning to face the prince, he nuzzles his cheek before placing a kiss there.

“Thank you for being willing to help,” he purrs, snuggling into Tserr’s warm embrace.

“Of course I’d want him dead for troubling my little spider so,” is all Tserr offers in response.

They rearrange themselves so that they’re laying more comfortably on the bed, and Chrollo drifts off peacefully, thoughts of avenging his fallen spiders lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> just who is manipulating whom
> 
>  
> 
> i will not rest until everyone gets behind them as a pairing thanks


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